A golden moon sways inside the endless reach of broken china stars whose wishes read like musical notes, risen from the dawn of time.
Darkness grows into a thick bleed of hard purple varnish, with lonely silver pinpricks of the ancient times roaming hopelessly, like lost lovers.
This celestial ballet is a tangle of poets and rock songs whose asymmetry is a revolution of math equations making babies with angry rhymes.
Serendipity pulses and bubbles in this magical pond. The restless calm before the uprising, when the might of darkness will battle with fire.
Cobwebbed stars shout in their best mighty and pray in their best kneel and get tangled up in storms whose crush is lying in ravenous wait.
Vermilion colored pebbles cobble themselves together in serrated regiments, tasked with the merciless plunge.
Stars weeping as if bent spokes on a broken down bicycle whose journey is a wheezing, desperate wreck of memories.
The sky heaves and swirls as if there is any doubt as to the outcome of its rebellion. Its tears turn to flickers and lashes and then finally, to smoke.
Black vespers of those cosmic scrolls float like ash across the moody canvas. Violet dregs to plush magenta to roasted crimson.
Plump slices of orange drip from this frosted ceiling as the moon runs away and the sky opens up to birdsong echoes and velvet cream clouds.
And dreams paint the newborn sky in sunflower drenched amulets that streak the racing heartbeat of that orange pulp with blessings.
The wind tastes of mercury and wine, with wrinkles of mystery and fate collapsing in a tranquil embrace with the ransom of time.
Morning dew gives way to plush, the chill recedes to a warm and faithful glow and miracles dress themselves in different arrangements now.
Daylight sings its cursive song as steeples sing to blackbirds. As a fresh coat of paint comforts an old house. As stained glass speaks of truth.
Dawn has arrived.
Man Dawn arrives at your place with style. Well done, Marc
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Boss,
It is rare (never) that me and style end up in the same sentence, but Imma take your sugary chime because it is oh so sweet and I need the fix.
Peace and thank you for the propers
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Calls ’em as I sees ’em. 🙂
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You da Boss.
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Yeah, see.
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Wow!!! Stunning writing, Marc.
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Thank you Deb, so much.
Good to see you, and apologies for being a bit off as far as WP goes recently.
Peace
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Aww thats fine dont apologise.. Hugs ☺
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Hugs back.
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B,
See? Even John doesn’t dare add anything more than to tell you that you have some fine style. I, however, do tend to go on and gush about what you write so, I won’t hold back.
This was beautiful. Anyone who reads this will want to find a loved one (or not), settle in a comfy spot and watch the dawn arrive. They will have your words in the back of their mind and they will marvel at how well you expressed the transformation.
Thought it is most difficult to come up with my favourite line/stanza, this one resonated with me: “Serendipity pulses and bubbles in this magical pond. The restless calm before the uprising, when the might of darkness will battle with fire.” Gorgeous.
My attempts at poetry are… I dunno… but I do know they have been inspired.
Lotsa love,
Q
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Q,
I am heartened (always) to provide any inspiration I might. And it’s tit for beautiful tat, as you are some mighty fine inspiration as well.
And I wondered, loudly to myself in this instance, what I might capture from the memories my brain attempts to retrieve as far as sunrises are concerned. And it’s funny but my sense of smell and sound are more vivid than the actual imagery that I’m trying to express. But I think this allows me to forget how much I’m struggling (As I did with this piece) and just immerse myself in a particular morning I summon up.
A favorite line?! You are too much of a good thing, but I’m not complaining in the least. And your favorite line sat quite well with yours truly, which ain’t no small thing seeing as how I usually write something and then curse. A lot.
Now who’s rambling?
And your poetry is divine m’dear. And your style is strong and velvety to the senses. And you know that struggle, and you probably invoke many of the same curse words.
MWAH!
B
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B,
You just keep on writing this stuff, okay? It is wonderful and shows a whole ‘nother side of you. A really nice side.
You are quite attuned to your senses and you manage to convey that to us in a truly magnificently evocative way.
Was hard to choose just one. But there ya go.
And you are most generous. And I’ll take it.
To curses that help get the beauty out.
MWAH!
Q
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Q,
I have a Spidey sense about me, remember? And it can do me some good when it feels like it, so I’m grateful for that.
I WILL keep writing this stuff indeed, and Imma keep trying to fit more into less the way you do so damn well.
To the evocatively placed kisses of a line.
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B,
That you do. It is truly impressive and I am a tad jealous of your capabilities.
You DO keep on… and I’ll nudge you when necessary. As to the more in less… nah…
To the evocatively placed kisses of a line? Bloody hell… I am not even attempting to top that one. Sigh…
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Q,
Jealous? Puhleeze!
And to the keeping on, it’s inside that struggle that we may find our voice. But it’s a fucking patient thing, that struggle. It tests us relentlessly.
A sigh is a thought turned inside out. And a thought is an idea, and an idea . . it’s a post.
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B,
Yes. Just a tad…
When you struggle… man do we benefit.
And yes. When I struggle, I end up with a comment from a certain B who makes me realise it was worth it.
OK then… I like that.
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This B fella sounds like he knows what he’s talking about.
As per usual, the lovely Q brings her A game to the comment section and leaves it on B’s blog post.
To lotsa letters and love
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I think he does…
She does her best
Lots and lotsa love and letters.
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Double MWAH to that!
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😘😘
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😘😘
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Dawn…the best time of day. A fresh slate to begin anew.
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I’m up and just finished watching the game, so I gots to say . . .
GO ROCKIES!!!
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Give them time to break your heart. Just look at John Gray. 😉
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I had to look up Gray, and read an article on his journey from opening day starter to rock bottom. That sucks.
But the Rockies took out the Cubs, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
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